Collaboration: Kate's seduction
by firsttimefan
Summary: The Nikki/Rook scene Kate writes for my fic Collaboration. It's the way Kate sees Rook seducing Nikki. T for safety.


**I don't know if you've noticed, but Nikki Heat, despite being the main protagonist, does little in the way of personal reflection for more than a few lines at a time, which made it very hard to get a handle on her voice. Therefore, if she comes off sounding a little like Kate, sorry.**

**Please review.  
**

A single grainy photo. A picture of a man's back in the middle of an underground parking lot without anything else in the frame to even give an estimated build. Heat hazarded a guess at tall, but that was all it was: a guess. She didn't know what colour his eyes were, his hair colour or even his age. The only thing her team had established was that he liked black: black pants, black sweater, black hat, black shoes. One more thing she could hardly call useful was that he really didn't like cameras. Outside that parking garage he avoided every traffic camera and every surveillance device, effectively disappearing and leaving her and her team with just this one lousy photo.

His nickname? Camera- shy.

She had Rook to thank for that one. Damn writer should come up with something better. It was annoying, basic, catered to cops' gallow humor…catchy. Damn it.

And it looked like just staring at the board wasn't going to conjure her any more leads.

So basically, she had successfully narrowed the suspect pool down to tall men and butch women. Probably.

Hell, it could be Rook. Where was he anyway?

Distracted by the sudden thought, her head swiveled, roving the bullpen trying to spot his blazer and long hair. Her search came up empty and she was very conscious of Roach's empty chairs. They wouldn't have taken Rook somewhere without telling her surely? Well, if they did, they deserved the punishment they were most likely experiencing at this very moment; Rook made for a very annoying driving companion until he settled. He was cool as can be until he got in a squad car on any sort of official business – a trait of his that never failed to push her buttons.

Though they had put that energy of his to good use when they were the passengers.

She snorted a laugh at the thought of her boyfriend in the patrol unit with her partners, deliberately testing to see how far he could get before they snapped. He called it one of his interrogation techniques.

Heat scoffed again and headed for the break room and caffeinated reinforcement, feeling her vertebrae crack and pop as she stood and stretched.

The sight of said boyfriend sprawled over the break room couch with a copy of _Treasure Island_ across his chest, froze her in place. He was here? He was crashed out instead of annoying her boys? Heat shrugged off the irrational disappointment and picked her way quietly over the beaten wooden flooring until she was standing directly over him.

While not a light sleeper, he most certainly wasn't a deep one. He had told her once that it was hard for him to sleep deeply when he was so used to stealing a few hours in unfriendly territory. Yet her approach didn't trigger any of his alarms, making her reconsider grabbing him by his ear for falling asleep without her. God, she was tired. From the dark smudges under his eyes, Rook could use a few extra minutes while she made them coffee.

Heat headed for the coffee machine and saw two cups were already out and doctored but the milk hadn't been heated yet. Rook passed out making their coffee? Her earlier affection hardened somewhat in the face of knowing she had been denied caffeine and she started with the steamer enthusiastically hoping to wake him after all. Petty.

She knew better than to take all of her attention off the jug - she had been burned before, but she kept most of her attention on the prone figure, waiting for him to start awake. She needed a pick me up right now and his face would do just fine.

Her eyebrows contracted though when he only stirred briefly.

That was not the Rook she knew. Was he sick?

Heat shut off the intimidating machine and finished the coffee almost 99 percent on autopilot as she ran through the morning again; looking for some sign that Rook had been unwell. A little pang of guilt went up when she realized she hadn't been paying that much attention – she hadn't even felt him slip off to the break room.

Leaving the mugs on the table she came to stand just off his shoulder.

"Rook."

She gave him a gentle shove with her fingers curled around his bicep. "Rook."

The first sign of his imminent return to consciousness was a small smile. Though it was barely more than a quirk of lips, it was her favourite expression. Usually his smiles were distinctly lopsided – he said he learnt how to smile by watching his mother and her glass of wine.

It was first one side in a smirk and then the other side would follow, but never seemed to quite catch up. It left him with a very distinctive, rakish, close-mouthed grin that drove her to distraction in different ways on different days.

But this one? It was unconscious, open and content: a little Jamie, a little Jameson and a lot endearing. It was one of the reasons she liked waking up before him in the mornings.

He shifted his weight as if trying to readjust to being back into his body and his eyes were still shut when he let out a simple greeting. "Hey."  
"Hey," she acknowledged, allowing her fingers to move off his arm and sweep into is hair, trying to work it back into place in case the Captain made his way in.

Rook's eyes opened to the stimulation and he nuzzled into her hand.

"I've got coffee," she offered, letting her fingers rest, some of his warm drowsiness seeping over into her.

"You made me coffee," his comment sounded more than half like a question and she nodded. He shifted from his side to his back and dragged her down so she was sitting at his hip with her hands splayed on either side of his shoulders so she wouldn't land fully on him.

He reached up and used his new grip in her hair to drag her face down to his.

It only took her a second for her to work through surprise, worry, amusement, disgruntlement and the possible loss of her image before she arrived at wanting.

Was there something wrong with her boyfriend kissing her?

Not the way Jameson Rook did it.

Plus, she was surprised to find she had kind of missed him with her locked up in her own bubble all morning.

They were so close that she had to fight the urge to blink at the way his eyelashes were tangling with hers when he abruptly stopped. She forced her eyelids to stay still long enough to look at him in question.

"I forgot, sorry," he gave her an impish smile. "Not at work."

He had to be kidding her. He wasn't even a millimeter away and he stopped. More than that, why was she so disappointed he was following the guidelines she had set out for them?

He kissed his fingers and pressed them against her lips softly, flustering her.

"You do not work here," she reminded him, masking away her sudden and disconcerting neediness. "But I guess that deserves a reward."

His eyes lit up and she rolled her eyes, getting to her feet. She heard his huff of air as he propelled himself up and a few seconds later his warmth was seeping into her back, enough to comfort but not actually be touching her. She could also feel him bouncing a little with repressed energy. Looked like she didn't have to worry about him being sick.

"So what's my reward?" he asked eagerly.

"You even have to ask?" she returned archly, hoping to pay him back for messing with her hormones.

His eyes went wide and he squeaked out a "Here?" before she reached out to clip him around the head, thoroughly pissed off to have her plan backfire on her.

"I meant the coffee, idiot," she muttered.

"I'll have to try it before I go so far as to call it a reward."

She just gave him an even look and took a seat. "So would you care to tell me what part of Mr. Stevenson's epic search for wealth buried beneath the sand sent you into a coma on our couch?"

"Ah, yes. Mr. Stevenson," Rook picked up the battered novel and took his seat across from her at the standard square table. "My interest actually stemmed after I made a call to my friend down at the library."

"Did they recommend you read it?"

"No, but she wasn't at all concerned when I asked to check it out."

She.

"You see, Mr. Stevenson here, along with Mr. Dan Brown," he groped for two more books she hadn't seen piled down on the floor. "And this little gem, were the last books to be checked out by my eavesdropping writer brethren before Camera-shy decided to throw him down to lending on the first floor."

She took _The Idiot's Guide to Precious Stones_ from his hands and glanced between the three books and his smug face.

"I think it's pretty clear that he heard everything and was looking to hide it."

She couldn't hold back a smile at his self-satisfaction and turned the book over absently in her hands. She felt a little catch and saw the badly dog-eared sliver of paper sticking out from the bottom cover of the laminated dust jacket, only visible between the diagonal, loose pages due to it's lighter color.

"More like he heard something about the location and didn't know how to figure it out."

"What makes you say that?"

She pulled the small scrap of paper from underneath the book jacket and displayed it triumphantly. Point for her.

He got quickly to his feet and read the series of numbers over her shoulder. "Wow," he shook his head after a few seconds. "I heard he was idiot, but this just proves it. He borrowed those books? He should have just gone and got a book on cryptology."

"Yeah well," she shrugged, her body very aware of the line of his heat against her and his hands on her shoulders. "Too bad he didn't figure that out sooner."

…

Now that they had a lead, her mood had taken a definite upswing despite Rook being seemingly incapable of moving from direct proximity with her back, his fingers running repeatedly over the back of her neck and the base of her skull where her muscles had been starting to protest. He had a habit of doing this for her when she got home from work, and she wasn't exactly sure if he was aware he was doing it sometimes. Long hours at the computer meant it was an ache she had long since become accustomed to which made her all the more grateful for his discrete ministrations.

Until he started messing with her. He could tell when she would start to getting too comfortable and deliberately start working on her sweet spots. After the third time she stood up and moved away from his hands, refusing to break.

The stairwells, corridors, elevators, training rooms…they were all monitored. She couldn't yell at him and she couldn't even drag him off to return the favor.

But it was almost lunch time and she wouldn't mind going out to lunch today, maybe somewhere with finger food. Put all his touching and restless digits to good use.

Sushi, she decided, just for old times sake.

The chime on his phone distracted her from and her attention drifted over to him. Maybe it was his contact inside the paparazzi.

From the resigned look on his face though, she guessed not.

"I guess that's my cue to leave," Rook announced reluctantly.

What? "You're leaving?"

"Apparently I have a meeting. My publisher called this morning and said she wanted to discuss my next novel."

He showed her his screen

…

_Jamie,_

_Because I love you, I got you in for 1.30pm. _

_Now get that cute behind of yours in here before I change my mind._

…  
"Oh," she tried for the second time today not to sound disappointed as her visions of teasing him with sushi drained away. "Good luck, it sounds like you need it."

"Much appreciated," he gave her a crooked grin and shrugged on his coat. "Now Nik, before I leave you have to promise me one thing."

"No, I don't," she returned immediately.

"No matter how quickly you crack that code, you are by no means allowed to go on a treasure hunt without me." His face was stern and entirely serious but his eyes were crinkled.

"Get out," she gave him a gentle shove and he laughed.

"I'm serious," he pulled her against him and once again stopped a breath away from her lips. "Not at work," he reminded himself, looking comically repentant.

Heat was really starting to regret making that rule. At the same time she was never more grateful she had.

…

It was possible this code was going to drive her insane. When the frustration of trying to figure it out was starting to make her dangerous, she sent Roach home – they didn't need to put up with her.

Rook had left with a strict warning that they were by no means allowed to go on a treasure hunt without him and now in retrospect, she wondered if he had jinxed them. Realistically she knew it wasn't possible but she couldn't help but grumble under her breath that now they weren't going to get anywhere until he came back.

Which he didn't.

She hadn't heard from him all afternoon since the last text she had received:

_She's confiscating my phone now, happy? _

Was it really her fault that the shop had forgotten to give her a spoon for her fruit salad and tasting her own fingers had reminded of him? Heat admitted it had been very amusing to remind him of this when he was in a meeting, picturing his flustered reaction to her characteristically blunt texting.

But since that text at 2.09pm that afternoon she hadn't heard from him despite it creeping up on 8.00. He probably was out to dinner with said publisher.

When she felt a quick sting of jealousy, she knew she was officially pathetic and obviously not going to get any further with this investigation tonight.

Heat scooped up the three books Rook and their victim had borrowed and added them to the cradle of her arm along with a copy of the code. If she was going to be pathetic, at least she could do it in the comfort of her own home.

…

It had been years since she had read _Treasure Island_, but she found that with a belly full of pasta and the right playlist it certainly helped to numb her mind. After a few chapters, she had reacquainted herself with the out-dated flow of the sentences and was able to follow the words almost absently across the pages as she lounged on her couch in a pair of old yoga pants and one of Rook's sleeping shirts she had plucked from the laundry.

Feeling decidedly mellow, she had to question exactly why their victim had borrowed this book. Obviously he hadn't known he was being followed - if he had, he wouldn't have been stupid enough to practically broadcast his intentions. No. Someone had definitely been watching him.

What didn't make sense to her tough was why a member of the paparazzi hadn't done any research on the other members of this conspiracy. Admittedly paparazzi weren't known for researching unless it was in the form of digging; but they had sources and ways of unearthing anything preferred left alone.

If he knew the thief, why hadn't he done enough of a background check for it to be painfully clear that there was no way the man had drawn inspiration from _Treasure Island_ when hiding his score or making this code.

Whatever the reason she was thankful now as she relaxed into her cushions and let the song wash over her, appreciating the weight and feel of the pages in her hands, resting low on her stomach.

But the song came to an end and unwanted thoughts of her boyfriend worked their way back in when she glanced over to her stereo and caught sight of her phone. He had been clingy today and then just dropped off the face of the earth. Her cell phone on her coffee table registered no blink of light signaling a waiting message.

She wasn't sure what had gotten into her at the precinct today. Their relationship had come a long way but she still never let it compromise her own code of ethics: work was work and play was play, no matter how serious that play seemed to be getting.

It wasn't unheard of for him to drop in on her at work, largely out of nostalgia, but there was something strange about today.

Running her fingers over the sides of the book, she tried to nail down exactly what it was that had allowed him to touch her at the precinct. She was still considering it when she heard a key in her lock and a muted thud a second later as the chain on her door arrested Rook's progress into her apartment.

"Nikki?" he called, obviously catching the soft notes from her stereo. "Can you get the chain?"

With a sigh she rolled on to her feet and made her way across the open lounge and dining area, unsure if the tangle of emotion his appearance inspired meant she was happy to see him or upset.

When she caught sight of him between the space of her door, she tended towards happiness but kept her face neutral all the same, not entirely convinced.

He gave her a knowing grin at the lack of greeting and the scales dipped drastically in favor of annoyance.

"What's wrong with my chain?" she asked him. "It seems to be doing a pretty decent job to me."

She was so tempted just to let him sweat out there, but Rook never did cooperate. From the look on his face she knew that if she shut the door on him now, she would just be providing him with fodder. She supposed that was what she got for dating a smart ass.

Heat shut the door and slid back the chain then started back for the couch. She had picked up the book and was about to sit back down before she realized the door had never opened again. She put the book back down and shook her head slowly already making the return trip when the door bell went.

She bit back a chuckle and pulled her door open. He gave her a little wave and she rolled her eyes and stepped aside for him to enter.

"You're not at work," Rook observed.

She made a vague sound of agreement in the back of her throat but found it didn't quite make up for the strange rollercoaster he had put her through all day, there one minute and gone again the next.

"Something you would know if you made use of modern technology," she told him.

"But you're not at work," he repeated. She fixed him with an irritated stare- she really wasn't in the mood for any more see-sawing.

"Which means," he continued with a smile. "I can do this," he caught the edge of her shirt and pulled her into him in a slow, lazy kiss, surprising her. Just as surprising was her contentment and lack of desire to speed things up.

The tingling sensations his lightly stroking tongue were provoking enough she seriously considered pulling away for relief but he had her in a firm grip and she decided to start taking back some ground.

When she let him go, he didn't go far.

"I've been wanting to do that all day," he breathed against her before pulling away to meet her eyes. "Hey," he offered.

"Hey."

His hand fell from her hair to meet the other twined tightly around her waist.

"I brought cheesecake," he told her, waving the bag he had kept in his hand.

"Dinner with your publisher?" she guessed.

He nodded. "And some agents. I begged out early; told her if she really wanted that book as soon as she says she does, she better let me get back to my inspiration."

She narrowed her eyes at the term and flicked his nose lightly.

"Ouch! Nik!"

"Baby."

"Anyway, they let me get dessert to go and dropped me off. Gave me my phone back too."  
"Ah," she shifted her weight and he followed her, effectively swaying them. "So you up for some of New York's finest cheesecake?" he asked.

"Not right now," he told her quietly, setting the box down and wrapping his arms around her with more purpose.

When he made no further moves, she tensed.

"Come on, Nikki," his cheek moved directly against hers when he spoke, a strange, bony friction.

"Okay," she let her head rest his shoulder to give her neck a break. He was a lot taller when she wasn't in heels. He huffed against the crown of her head but seemed happy with her participation, his thumbs moving in tight circles on her hips.

Today had been a long, frustrating, weird day, but in his arms she started to recapture some of the quiet she had found with the book earlier without the constant work related thoughts at the back of her head. After a minute of staying this way he started to hum wordlessly to the song playing and soon after to move them. At first it was just a stationary shift of weight and balance but then he progressed to rocking them slowly in his own little dance, still half way between the door and the living room.

"You're wearing my pajama shirt," he observed a few songs later.

Leaning against him, she was feeling a little boneless and her half-articulated reply did little to hide the fact.

"I was going to wear that tonight," he told her against her ear.

She let out an involuntary chuckle, recalling the strange jumble of emotions she had been today. "No you weren't," she informed him.

She pulled her head away from where it was still tucked into his neck and let her fingers drift up his face and wander over his lips.

Without having to ask he understood and gladly bent to meet her with a little more heat than their last lazy meeting.

Their dance fell apart under the swelling desire they had flirted with all day. Her moans were quickly using up her air and she broke away to recuperate and punish him by marking the sensitive skin of his neck, slightly rougher now than when she had grazed on it this morning after watching him shave.

"I guess," he gasped. "You were right." He ran his hands up as high as the shirt would allow, his fingers teasing all the muscles in her back he had avoided at work. Him and his bloody hands.

She let her teeth wander more forcefully. "I'm always right."

"You want some cheesecake?" he offered again. "It's pineapple flavoured."

She couldn't stop her laugh bowling into his neck. "Really?"

"Really. I got a piece to share," he gave her a wide, happy grin.

"Well in that case, yes. I do want some cheesecake," she pulled herself out of his arms and he retrieved the box he had dropped during their dance. She headed for the bedroom and called over her shoulder to him. "Oh, and Rook? No hands."

**Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think. And to those who read the companion piece, thanks for letting me know about my error!**


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